


In the night, a heart beats

by Shiwah



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dark Knight Questline (Final Fantasy XIV) Spoilers, Dubious Consent, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Multi-Classed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Patch 4.5: A Requiem For Heroes Spoilers, Self-Hatred, Self-cest, no beta we just die, no default midlander was actually harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiwah/pseuds/Shiwah
Summary: The Warrior of Light cannot find rest.Takes place after the quest "The Face of War."
Relationships: Fray Myste/Warrior of Light
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	In the night, a heart beats

_So, please… Don't you dare leave me alone._

_No matter what happens… we have to survive together._

  


And yet, even Alisaie has fallen.

The Warrior stares, unblinking, at the ceiling. His borrowed room at the Rising Stones is quiet and private — courtesy of Hoary Boulder — and it's making it _worse_.

He misses Alisaie. Seeing her fall unconscious, never to wake up, right in front of him…

He can't banish her last words from his head. The more he remembers them, the more accusing they sound.

 _Why didn't you help me?,_ the Alisaie in his mind, eyes wide in silent horror as she stretches her hand towards him, asks.

He knows the real one would never actually say that. Yet… he wants to _help_ — he wants to _save._

After the battle at the Ghimlyt Dark, he had to smile and nod at Lord Hien, at the Resistance commanders, at the remaining Scions after his return. He had to reassure them that he was still with them, that the dawn's light still shines on Eorzea and Doma alike.

The weight of the world now resting on his shoulders in its entirety, without the Archons.

Without his companions.

That reality is finally sinking in, and no matter how much the Warrior tosses and turns and hides his face in his hands, it's not a nightmare he can wake up from.

The sheets are twisted beyond comfort under his back.

The Warrior stares at the ceiling again, the moonlight streaming from outside accentuating the shadows in the corners and the memories of similar failures.

(What good is he, if he cannot even save one woman from her own despair?)

There is silence where there should be chatter — Lyse is in Ala Mhigo to see to the restoration of her motherland, and Alisaie… well. She has joined the other Scions in death-like slumber.

For all he can do about it, they might as well be truly dead.

The Warrior throws an arm across his eyes. He knows it's futile. He knows reality isn't erased by not looking at it.

Yet, he cannot bring himself to face it.

A movement in the darkness. Blind in the night, the Warrior doesn't notice.

Fray looks at him from the shades in the corner, arms folded against his chest and an unspeakable anger turning his eyes crimson for a moment. He knows everything — he always does — and the knowledge is what makes his purpose clear.

His steps are silent on the stone as he crosses the sparsely furnished space between him and the warrior sprawled in fitful rest on the bed.

The moonlight projects no shadow while he walks.

The Warrior of Light stirs only as Fray comes to a stop next to him, his sabatons purposefully dragged against the stone to produce the tiniest of noises. It's enough to have the Warrior lift the arm hiding his face and look up to find Fray's gleaming eyes meeting his in unrelenting judgment — the judgment the Warrior deserves, and none, save himself, gives.

From beneath the helmet, a question is asked.

"Why do you hate yourself so?"

The Warrior's reply is countless times rehearsed. "I couldn't help them."

Fray's _tsk_ is loud in the silence of the room. "Nonsense."

Fray lowers himself on a knee beside him. The Warrior watches him, unblinking. Half-heartedly tries to get up. Sluggish, his mind still spinning with recent memories.

At once, Fray's gauntleted hand grabs the scarf around his neck — crimson, they both know, like the blood spilled in the name of revolution — and brings them nearly nose to nose. Fray's eyes hold the anger his voice does not betray. "The people won't love or hate you more based on how many draw breath still. Stop holding yourself to an impossible standard."

"If I don't save them, who will?" Yotsuyu. Meffrid. Papalymo. Faces, flashes of people that were once alive, and now no longer are. And the condemnation in the eyes of their surviving loved ones. For an instant, the Warrior sees Lyse among them.

Fray growls. "Bloody _stop_ believing your worth is measured by how many people you — we — help!" His frustration bleeds into his voice — into the tightening grip on the scarf. "Their opinion is inconsequential. Fickle. All that truly matters is _you_."

Fray releases the grip just enough to unfasten his helmet with his free hand and discard it. In the dark, the Warrior can't see the face beneath — yet, he knows it all too well.

Eyes still possessed of their otherworldly golden gleam never leave his. Warm breath washes over his face as Fray whispers, "If you don't love yourself when no one else does it for you, what's the point of living?"

Within a heartbeat, Fray kisses him.

It's an unforgiving kiss, all hard teeth and dry lips that stay sealed tight. At first, the Warrior is too taken aback to react, save for gripping Fray's pauldrons as his mind scrambles to catch up — to push away or to latch onto himself as a lifeline, he isn't sure.

That is, perhaps, precisely what Fray aims for.

Within another heartbeat, Fray pulls away. He allows his other self a few seconds to rein his frantic breathing in, before fetching his discarded helmet and rising on his feet. "Think on it. Listen to us."

Fray turns around — takes to the shadows in the corner once more. He glances back one last time, his luminous eyes the only distinguishable part of him in the darkness. "Be well."

With that, he merges back with the shadows.

Alone in the moonlit room, the Warrior lies back. Stares at the ceiling.

When slumber finally comes, only dreamless darkness greets him.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Marzana for finding the quest for me!


End file.
